Run
by we were here
Summary: It was New York's fault, anyway. Maybe if he kept lying to himself then he would eventually believe it. - New York, 1954: Dallas Winston's first night spent in jail, when he was only ten years old.


**D_isclaimer: _**Don't own anything.

**N_ote:_**Alright, I'm going against my better judgment and posting this! This story is about the first time Dallas got arrested, when he was only ten years old. This drabble basically covers Dallas's first night ever spent in jail. I left out the part where he psychically got arrested, the interrogation at the station (etc etc) because _I_ thought, as a writer, that this fic didn't need it, but if you think it does need any parts that I may have left out, please let me know so I can try and fix it.

*Loosely based on "Run" by Snow Patrol, hence the title.

^^Personally, I'd suggest listening to the song after you read this, so I'll post the link to the song at the bottom of the page. Feel free to check it out, since I think that it kind of ties this fic together in some weird way, about how Dallas can't run away now that he's locked up.

I'm not perfect, so flames and critique are welcome!

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"_**Have heart my dear,**_

_**We're bound to be afraid.**_

_**Even if it's just for a few days,**_

_**Making up for all this mess…"**_

_**~Run – Snow Patrol**_

**~* *~**

**Run**

**One | New York, 1954**

A pair of ice eyes glanced around the tiny cell he was locked in, a smirk sitting on the face of a boy who was too young for the streets of New York. Yet here he was, locks of bleach hair matted down in a cake of dry blood, a few drops hanging off the few small locks that fell over his forehead in wisps, some drops staining his flushed cheeks, courtesy of the cold November air. His bottom lip was completely busted open, split practically in half, even though the young boy shifting on the stiff cot didn't seem to notice. It was either that, or he simply didn't care.

Cuts lurked on his shadowed face, extending their way down his neck to the collar of his leather jacket, bruises and scars already beginning to form. Arms were out in front of him, broken knuckles gripping the empty air where a switchblade once was. Legs were crossed out in front of him, stretched out across the linoleum, jeans ripped, obviously two sizes too big, hanging off of his bony frame.

Truth was, Dallas Winston was scared, terrified even. He had never gotten into this much trouble before, never had gotten shoved into the back seat of a squad car, never had to feel the cold metal around his wrists from too-tight handcuffs that an officer had placed on him less than an hour earlier.

But Dallas Winston wasn't going to let the rest of New York know that he was afraid. Of course, he'd been sent to juvenile hall a few times when he was younger, but he never was in _jail _before! He only heard about it, talked about it with the other gang members that he hung around with back on the streets. He never wanted to go to jail-hell, he was fine with the reputation he had!

Now, as Dallas shifted on the stiff cot that was anything but comfortable, a single tear rolled down his face, resting on his cheek.

For the first time in his life, Dallas Winston was alone.

And he didn't take being alone that well.

Lifting his feet off of the ground, he started to swing them in the air absentmindedly, trying to ignore the bile that clawed its way slowly up his throat, the beads of sweat that had collected above his brow, the fire raging in his hands. Frozen, trapped behind a layer of emotions, Dallas's eyes scanned the room that had suddenly seemed smaller.

Dallas coughed, shaking off the pain of his throat closing, blinking away the few tears that had started to well up in his eyes. Through dilated pupils, Dallas saw the world shift before him, turn at a slightly different angle. Instead of everything being parallel and straight, everything was slanted now, almost upside down. Colors that were never there before now clouded his vision, made blood pound in his ears, until the only thing he could hear was his heartbeat. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _Objects were no longer there, either, washed away by the current of colors that clouded over his vision.

Blinking away tears, Dallas leaned over the cot and averted his gaze down to the gray floor. With every shaky breath he drew in, the bile he had tried to keep down, lock away, rose higher and higher, protesting, burning his scratched throat. Small beads of sweat traveled their way down from the back of his neck and down his leather jacket, making him shiver.

Now, as if he had suddenly been thrown under a bus, he could feel it, the pain, as blood slowly fell from his bottom lip onto his chin, dripping onto the floor, the thick substance forming a small puddle rather quickly. His arms, which were stretched out in front of him, had grown numb a long time ago, but he could still feel blood traveling through every vein, reaching every cell. Hands were no longer attached to the rest of his body; ten broken knuckles open to fresh air, germs that he didn't need, diseases he didn't want. His legs ached along with the rest of his body, a vague reminder of what had happened just a few hours ago.

All too soon the world shifted once again, and Dallas was brought back to reality, brought back to the world he'd tried to isolate himself from.

Pulling his knees up to his scarred chest, Dallas began rocking back and forth; trying to control the sobs that threatened to break free from his chest, ready to spill out at any given moment. Drawing in a shaky breath, he ignored the pain, the reason why he was here, the _truth._

His innocence had been robbed from him, pulled out from beneath him like a rug. It was New York's fault, anyway. It was New York's fault that he was locked up, the reason why he was in so much pain right now and the reason why no one, not even the _fuzz,_ believed him. Maybe, just maybe, if he kept lying to himself then he would eventually believe it.

Glaring at the world through a pair of blue eyes that had seen too much in too little time, Dallas waited until the tears stopped falling, until the fears ran away, until his heart had stopped beating, before he finally gave up, once and for all.

He thought he would feel something_-anything_-as he stared through ice eyes at metal bars that trapped him from the world he knew best, the bars that he would soon get to know too well.

But when Dallas finally closed his eyes in defeat, he didn't feel anything at all.

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**L_ink: _**to "Run" by Snow Patrol ↓

http://www (.) youtube (.) com/watch?v=MP5j_Q9CZ3w


End file.
